


This Love Came Back to Me

by modernpatroclus



Series: In Any Reality [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Temporary Character Death, mentions of thearoy and merlance, music fic, olicity - Freeform, pre-island au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-03 23:49:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4119102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/modernpatroclus/pseuds/modernpatroclus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Oliver and Felicity were together before the island. They get into a fight, and Oliver runs. He leaves with his father on the Gambit. They both just wanted some space; neither of them thought he would be gone so long.<br/>Based on “This Love” by Taylor Swift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Love Came Back to Me

**Author's Note:**

> Their age gap is only two years in this. Not beta’d, so all mistakes are my own (which there may be because I’m posting this quickly since I’m about to go to a baseball game). Rated T for one teeny tiny mention of partying, sex, drugs, etc.  
> I own nothing but my idea for this one shot. This work may not be reposted without my consent.  
> I hope you enjoy. :)

**Before**

When Felicity Smoak was only 16 years old, she graduated from high school. The following year, she moved halfway across the country to attend MIT. When she was 20, she graduated from there with a master’s in Cyber Security and Computer Sciences. After graduating, she moved to Starling City and got a job as an IT expert for a company called Queen Consolidated. That was where she met Oliver Queen.

They met when Felicity was called into the CEO’s office for a one-on-one meeting (for which she was utterly terrified, but tried to hide through false outrage over what she’d assumed was her termination). Mr. Robert Queen needed discreet research into some rival bidders on an investment he was looking to make, and was pointed in Felicity’s direction for her impressive job performance and genius-level IQ.

Felicity walked into Mr. Queen’s office for the second time in two days to report back what she’d found. But she barely made it through her first sentence when a “Hey, pops! Look who’s on break from school,” sounded from the doorway. Both heads turned to find a guy about her age, wearing a button-down, khakis, and a smirk. Felicity barely had time to think that he was cute before he’d strolled up to her in front of Mr. Queen’s desk and turned his gaze on her. His smirk widened to reveal a dimple, and he asked, “Who’s this?”

But his distraction technique was short-lived. Mr. Queen sighed. “Oliver, it’s the middle of the semester. What do you mean you’re ‘on break’?”

‘Oliver’ grinned – how she guessed was supposed to come off as sheepishly – and said, “Well . . . Princeton’s not really working out for me.”

Felicity felt even more out of place than usual, which was saying quite a bit, considering that in school she was constantly bullied for being so much smarter than her peers. She spoke for the first time since Oliver’s initial interruption. “I’ll just, um, give you this,” she stuttered, attempting to avoid the stare of who she gathered to be her boss’s son and neatly gather her research. She successfully fished the folder out from the pile of paperwork in her arms and dropped it onto her boss’s desk before quickly hurrying out of there, still ignoring the stare burning a hole in her back.

* * *

 After their first unofficial meeting in his father’s office, Oliver not-so-subtly asked his father who she was and where she worked, just ‘out of curiosity,’ he’d claimed (to which his father rolled his eyes at). He’d gone down to the IT department and found her office, knocking once without waiting for a response. “Felicity Smoak?” he asked, his most charming grin present. She whirled around in her chair, a red pen dangling from her lips.

That’s when he knew he was in for it.

When they met, Oliver was every bit the spoiled frat boy the media portrayed him as. But like all those cliché movies Felicity always outwardly rolled her eyes at (while secretly loving), Oliver changed when he met her. At that first office meeting, he just saw her as another potential hookup. She was cute, smart, and worked for his father, which meant he’d always know where to find her.

But for whatever reason, he found himself wanting to truly get to know her, something he hadn’t wanted since his last serious relationship over a year ago with a girl named Helena crashed and burned. It only took one babble-filled (on her part) conversation for Oliver to realize that she was way out of his league with her intelligence, quirky but endearing personality, and lack of a mean bone in her body. And she was less than impressed at his attempts to ask her out via cheesy pick-up lines.

So once he realized that hookups weren’t enjoyable anymore and he couldn’t stop thinking about her, Oliver decided to do something about it. Which, being a trust fund kid who’s never had to do anything worthwhile in his life, was a pretty big deal. And though it would take her a while to admit it, Oliver’s (gentlemanly) persistence was kind of adorable.

* * *

 

**Then**

The weekend that everything changed, they had been fighting.

It was stupid, and they both knew it. But despite their seemingly polar opposite personalities, one thing they both were was stubborn. So once the fight began, neither one wanted to back down. This led to Oliver’s last-minute decision to join his father on his yacht trip. He didn’t feel like dealing with whatever it was that had started their argument – which, at this point, he couldn’t even remember what it was about – or talking it out just yet. So, he fled like the scared little boy he knew he still was. The rich boy who didn’t ever deal with problems, just throwing money at them and hoping they’d go away.

He should’ve known better than to try that with her.

Despite their fight, Felicity wasn’t going to let Oliver leave for a spontaneous boat trip halfway around the world without a goodbye (much to her later relief that she hadn’t been that stubborn and at least got some kind of goodbye, albeit not the kind she ever wanted). So the morning the Gambit was to leave, Felicity got up early and drove to the docks where it was leaving from. She’d gotten the location from Robert the night before because she was too stubborn to ask Oliver.

“You came . . .” Oliver said, surprise and apprehension coloring his tone upon seeing her walking up the dock towards him.

She sighed, coming to a stop a couple feet in front of him. “Of course I came. You’re leaving for I don’t know how long, and I’d just like to say bye,” she defended. It was too early in the morning for this, if you’d ask her.

“I won’t be gone long; it’s just a few weeks,” he explained.

“Well I guess I’ll see you when you get back . . .” she trailed off, unsure of whether or not to kiss him – whether she wanted to right now.

She still loved him, of course. That didn’t change just because of one little fight. But they had exchanged some pretty bitter insults the night before, and right now, she was beginning to think a few weeks and some space were the best thing for them. They didn’t argue often; they usually resolved their problems pretty quickly. So when they did fight, they tended to blow up into an all-out verbal war.

“I’ll see you,” he replied, bringing her out of her thoughts and answering her question when he hesitantly opened his arms out for her to walk into. She immediately accepted the embrace, never one to turn down a hug, especially from Oliver, who gave the best of them.

She pulled away a little too quickly for his liking, and in that moment, Oliver considered not going. He thought that maybe he should stay, should try to fix things.

The flash of doubt left as quickly as it had come, though, when Felicity muttered a final, “Bye,” and turned around, not looking back. He watched her retreat up the dock and turn into the mostly empty parking lot, out of his sight.

 _No_ , he told himself. _This is the right decision. Space is good for a relationship every once in a while._ That thought carried him onto the boat and away from home much longer than he’d like.

* * *

 

Felicity had just gotten to her best friend Laurel’s house when she heard the news.

(Felicity had come to pep-talk Laurel through her recent acceptance to law school that, at the moment due to the amount of prepping she had to do in such a short time, she was regretting. But Felicity ended up being the one who needed comforting. Irony’s a bitch, she’d later think.)

Her long-time boyfriend, Tommy Merlyn, who also happened to be Oliver’s best friend and one of her own, was also there for moral support. The local news was turned on, but no one was paying it much mind as they milled about the house.

Felicity hadn’t talked to Oliver much in the week-and-a-half he’d been gone; mostly, they would talk at night (her time) before she went to bed. She’d update him on what’d been going on in Starling, and they would ignore the metaphorical elephant still present in their relationship.

She explained the fight to Laurel, who agreed with her that, yes, Oliver running off was very immature but not at all surprising, and assured her that they would work it out, like always, and they would be back to their normal adorableness as soon as he got back.

That’s when they heard the news: the Queen’s Gambit went down sometime last night in the storm. There were no survivors.

Felicity couldn’t hear anything past the blood rushing in her ears. She stood up from her seat at the kitchen table next to Laurel and walked out the back door.

She ignored her rational mind telling her not to go anywhere in her state of shock and got in her car, ignoring the sight of Laurel’s tear-stained face emerging from the house and calling out to her.

She couldn’t find tears of her own. She hated herself for it.

* * *

 

**After**

_Year One_

The funeral was hell.

It didn’t even count, as far as Felicity was concerned. He wasn’t in that casket. He was . . . she didn’t have a clue where. At the bottom of the North China Sea somewhere. Irretrievable. She would never get the closure she was due. The proper goodbye she never even thought they would have until they were old and about to die from natural causes.

She knew, in the back of her mind, that was foolish hope. Life happens, and anything could separate them, be it another fight or a Titanic-esque tragedy. But while her rational mind knew that no love was forever, her hopeful heart was simply louder. She'd ignored the voice that whispered, “’Happily Ever After’s are only for fairytales.” And oh, how she regretted it now.

Standing with his family and Tommy, Felicity couldn’t help the guilt creeping into her chest. If they had never had that fight – what was it even about? she had no idea now – he wouldn’t have gone. He wouldn’t have run away, and he would still be alive now.

But as much as Felicity wanted to be angry – with him for running away from his problems, with herself for moving to this damn city in the first place and falling for that charming, dimpled smile – she couldn’t. The last few years of her life, though not perfect, were happy. And she knew she would do them all over again.

Except for this. She’d give anything to not have to be attending the second funeral of the second man she’d let herself fall in love with.

* * *

 

_Year Two_

The picture had to go.

Felicity wasn’t the type to hang a million photos up in her apartment. She preferred digital copies – surprise, surprise – but there was one she had to print. She had a framed photo of her and Oliver on her nightstand. It was a candid taken by Sara, Laurel’s younger sister, who was into photography. They weren’t paying her any mind, too busy staring into each other’s eyes (again, another cliché she’d deny to her death). Felicity was propped piggy-back style on Oliver’s back, and he had his head turned slightly to look at her. They both sported goofy grins and tired eyes. It was taken the morning after a famous Merlyn Party during clean up Tommy told them they were obligated to help with, being his best friends. It was her favorite picture of them. It wasn’t posed, and it always reminded her of the many parties that had ended like that (though she couldn’t recall any specifics from that one, considering how many there were).

But it had to go. Seeing it now - his happy and carefree smile directed at her that the world would never be graced with again - only intensified the constant ache in her chest that used to be filled with happiness. She couldn’t bring herself to throw it away, so Felicity put it in a shoe box of random things hidden under her bed where she didn’t have to see it. It had been steadily collecting dust for the two years it had been in there since the funeral.

* * *

 

_Year Three_

After three years of solitude post-Gambit, Felicity’s best friend, Laurel Lance, decided enough was enough. She’d tried subtle hints that Felicity flat-out ignored. So it was time for a new blunt approach.

“Felicity, you need to start dating again.”

To which she’d stubbornly responded, “I’m perfectly content in my perpetual singleness.”

“I’m serious, ‘Lis. You –“ she began, only to be cut off.

“So am I. I don’t need to be with someone to be happy,” she defended. She was so not talking about this again.

While having a lawyer for a best friend had its perks – free legal advice, for example – it also had its downfalls. For one, it was almost impossible for Felicity to ever win an argument against her. Laurel didn’t miss a beat as she quipped back, “But you’re not happy. And don’t even try to deny it. I know my best friend. I may not have known you before you and Ollie got together, but I knew you when he was with you, and I know you now. That light in your eyes is missing. And I want it back.” By the time she’d finished, they were standing almost chest-to-chest, and Laurel had taken Felicity’s smaller, paler hands in her own.

Felicity knew her track record with men. History repeats, and she knew it would continue to. Her father left, Cooper went to jail and then killed himself, Oliver died, and Digg enlisted in the army, needing a change of environment after Oliver’s empty-casket funeral. The most significant relationships she’d had with men only ended in one-sided heartbreak.

Well, she was done with it. The only man she had room in her heart for now was Tommy. She wrote Digg every few weeks, but it wasn’t the same as being with him. He was like the older brother she always wanted growing up, only to gain and then lose him.

But eventually, Felicity got tired of watching Laurel and Tommy be sickeningly perfect together while she would go home alone and watch Netflix with only herself for company. To humor Laurel and try to subdue the ache in her chest, Felicity finally accepted Ray Palmer’s request for a dinner date. One date eventually progressed into a relationship (she’d warned him that first night that she was controlling the pace, since he’d seemed eager to jump right in). And things were . . . good. Not that all-consuming, passionate love she had with him. But she knew that was a once in a lifetime deal.

So she accepted it for what it was: safe.

* * *

 

Oliver silently crept around the corner, watching her with baited breath. Her arms were around another man: tall, dark-haired, wearing the kind of suit his family all expected he’d be donning at this point if only he had not gone on that yacht.

He ignored the pang of jealousy in his gut. He left. He left and he died. Of course she had moved on. And she deserved to; she deserved to find love again, with someone who wasn’t the monster he now saw himself as. Three years of killing to not be killed, of being tortured, of becoming an assassin for the chance of coming home for real someday . . . Oliver was not the same man he’d been when he left. Now, he was a cold-blooded killer – because he had to be, yes, but that didn’t change the facts. He didn’t deserve her before, and he sure as hell didn’t now.

So instead of revealing himself like he yearned to, he stayed in the shadows and watched. He couldn’t come home yet; he still had a mission to finish. He watched them kiss, watched her smile up at him – not nearly as bright as she used to with him – and promised himself that when this was all over, he would come back to her. He would take up the mission his father sacrificed his own life so he could begin, and he would become a man worthy of her love. If she was still with this man then, he would respect that. But he would come back into her life, because if there was one thing the last three years had taught him, it was that Lian Yu was purgatory, but a life without Felicity was hell.

* * *

 

_Year Four_

Felicity broke up with Ray after a year.

He was an amazing man, but Felicity eventually had to accept the truth: she could never love him. She cared about him, but it could never be the kind of love she’d once had with Oliver. And not only would staying with him after realizing this be unfair to Ray, but it would also be unfair to her. She could not keep pretending it didn’t kill her to be wrapped in another’s embrace when she’d once thought she had found the one with whom she would share the rest of her life with.

Ray was a safe haven at first, allowing Felicity to have the kind of comfort she’d lost. But once she’d accepted that it would never be more than that, she had to get out. It no longer felt safe; it felt suffocating. So she chose to hurt him now with honesty rather than later through trying to push him away with detachment. He at least deserved that.

“Ray, I am so sorry. But I just can’t be with you when my heart belongs to someone at the bottom of the ocean,” she explained, forcing herself to hold in the tears. She had cried enough in the last three to last her a lifetime; she could make it through this conversation without giving into them again.

She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or guilty when he smiled in response. “It’s okay. You weren’t ready to move on yet. I understand; I lost someone once, too,” he reminded, bringing to her mind the name ‘Anna,’ his own deceased love, his ex-fiancé.

Felicity lay her hand on top of his in a gesture of both apology and empathy. When she pulled her hand away from his, it was for the last time.

* * *

 

_Year Five_

Thea and Felicity grew close when she was with Oliver. Felicity had become like an older sister to the younger girl. Thea worshiped Felicity, who was everything she wanted to become when she was older. And despite the painful memories that surfaced from being in Queen Manor and with Thea, Felicity stayed. She stayed because she knew the despair of losing a father, she felt the ever-growing hole in her heart from losing Oliver, and she was determined to not let Thea endure it all alone. On top of her personal tragedies, Thea was also in middle school when the Gambit went down. That was tough enough without having to have people stare and whisper as you walk by about how your “dreamy older brother” died. And after middle school came high school, which Felicity knew wouldn’t be much better. The drama only got more dramatic, and on top of that came drugs, parties, drinking, and sex. So Felicity didn’t go anywhere, no matter how much it hurt.

Now 17 and a senior in high school, she’d managed to survive without her dad and brother. This was in part due to Roy, a poor boy from the Glades whom she’d met when he beat off a would-be mugger when she was leaving a club one night (Felicity was not pleased about that).

Thea found solace in Roy, who showed her love she was sorely lacking. Sure, he was rough around the edges and refused her first few attempts at getting to know him better, claiming he didn’t need a “pity date” for his home life or as her thanks for saving her. But once Thea broke through those walls of defense and insecurity, she’d found exactly what she needed: understanding. They had both been through hell for people so young, and they would be forever changed from their crucibles. But they found their broken pieces fit together in all of the right ways.

And Felicity loved Thea like she was her own sister (and had once hoped would be someday). So she wistfully watched her fall in love – the same all-consuming, passionate love she’d once had with the other girl’s brother – and found that she was no longer bitter like she had been for the first few years after, watching Laurel and Tommy.

No, she couldn’t harbor any ill will. Her heart had already suffered too much to be able to hang on to any more pain than that one never-ending ache from _him_. Thea deserved all the love in the world, and Felicity was just relieved she’d found it (and that it was with someone who didn’t have the means to take spontaneous yacht trips around the world).

* * *

 

**Coming Home**

“Felicity.”

She flinched, but didn’t turn around. She gripped the edge of her desk tightly, her knuckles turning white. It can’t be real.

She was in her office, working late again to avoid going home for a while, when the voice sounded from the doorway. The voice. The one she hadn’t heard in person in five years. The one she knew she never would again. And yet, here it was. Just as she remembered it: soft and rough at the same time. Only now, there was agony added to the mixture.

Felicity had dreamt about this countless times since it happened, imagined him miraculously coming home to her, fantasized that it was all some horribly vivid nightmare. But never had her subconscious been able to get his voice quite so accurate.

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, willing it to stop. But the voice spoke again.

“Felicity, it’s me. It’s Oliver. Look at me,” the voice plead, hopefulness mixed with desperation.

She turned sharply, ready for this nightmare to end with her turning to find him there, only to wake up. That didn’t happen, however. Felicity didn’t see the Oliver she was expecting. Normally, in her dreams, he would appear before her looking how he used to, when they were together: clean cut, dressed nicely, and smiling brightly. In her nightmares, he would appear in the clothes he was wearing the day he left, but they were waterlogged, tattered, and his face was pale, lips blue and angry, telling her it was her fault. It was how she’d imagined he looked when the Gambit went down. The man before her now was neither of those.

Instead, he was wearing all black, his hair much longer and lighter as if bleached from the sun. He wasn’t smiling, nor was he angry. He looked haggard, alert, and hesitant.

Afraid to get too close for fear of spooking her further – for she already looked as if she was seeing a ghost – Oliver put his hands out in front of him in a gesture of surrender, and took one small step forward. Then he spoke again. “Felicity, it’s really me. I didn’t drown. I survived and I’m here. I’m real.” He spoke softly, carefully. His eyes were focused on hers the whole time, never wavering. He needed her to understand. He’d already spent far too long away from her.

Slowly, she found her voice. “H-how? How are you still alive? And where have you been?” Her volume increased, the last word cracking slightly.

“On an island. After the boat went down, I made it to a life raft and drifted to shore. I was marooned there until some fishermen found and rescued me a few weeks ago,” he explained, walking closer to her.

“Wait, _weeks_? How long have you been off the island? When exactly did you come home?” she questioned, surprising them both with the anger her words held. She knew she should withhold judgment until she heard everything, but he was alive, he wasn’t dead, and he waited to let her know? Five years she thought he was dead, and in that time she had dreamed of this happening, she never thought he would wait to come back to her. She’d thought that he would come right home if given the chance. Sure, she’d thought maybe he would go see his family first, especially given how they’d left things when he departed, but this? Letting everyone believe he was dead for longer than they had to?

Oliver felt a sharp, familiar pang of guilt in his chest at her words. She had no idea that this wasn’t even the first time he’d returned to Starling since he was presumed dead. She was upset over him not telling her for a few weeks; how could he possibly tell her that he’d been home two years before and didn’t tell anyone?

Oliver swallowed the guilt for now, knowing he couldn’t tell her about that yet. The pain of the last five years was still very raw, too close for her to be able to understand his reasons yet.

So he finally closed the distance between them. He was suddenly right there, hands grasping hers, eyes staring into her own. “I wanted to tell everyone, you have to believe me. But . . . I was afraid,” he admitted, looking away from her face to their joined hands. Felicity intertwined them for the first time in five years, and for all the world in that moment it was as if he’d never left.

“Afraid of what?” she whispered, the anger gone. She had no idea what the last five years had held for him, but she knew they were far from good. His face was tired, older, and there was no more of that boyish charm she’d known once upon a time. No, the man before her now was haunted. And she was going to do all she could to get some of that light back: the one Laurel said she herself had been missing.

She started by giving him a _long_ overdue kiss.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> I have a few more ideas for this ‘verse based on “You Are in Love” and “Wildest Dreams.” The first would be about them pre-Gambit, and the second would take place after the end of this one. If anyone’s interested, let me know! Kudos and feedback are much appreciated. :)


End file.
